


I Feel It In My Bones (Enough to Make My Systems Blow)

by roaroftheninth



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Fugitives, M/M, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roaroftheninth/pseuds/roaroftheninth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean does look up then, zeroing in on Eduardo’s face. He doesn’t seem to like what he sees, because he begins to type faster, fingers flying over the keys.</p>
<p>“Zuck is going to put me in the ground if something happens to you, Saverin; <i>do not die</i>.”</p>
<p>“I’m not dying,” Eduardo says, but he’s not sure.</p>
<p>Or: Mark is a telepath hunted by the American government in a dystopian future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Feel It In My Bones (Enough to Make My Systems Blow)

**Author's Note:**

> This story skips between two time periods/locations - 2030 (U.S.) and 2032 (Canada).

_2032 - Canada_

They've been in Canada for long enough that Mark has stopped looking over his shoulder everywhere he goes. He knows that Eduardo still sleeps with a gun in the drawer next to their bed - he was thirteen and on a gang's kidnap list when he left Brazil in the middle of the night, so his father taught him how to fire one, which is about the most useful thing Ricardo Saverin has ever done for his son - but Mark feels fairly secure in their life here.

 

He hears the steady, low hum of Eduardo's mind constantly in the background of everything else, and it's comforting; there's no anxiety there, or spikes of fear, or tension. It's like when they're curled up together at night, and Mark can dimly feel Eduardo's heartbeat. Even when Eduardo's halfway across the city, in his car or out on one of his morning runs, Mark can pick up errant strands of happiness or irritation if he wants to, and it makes him feel like they have some measure of stability that's been lacking for a really long time. Sometimes it's funny, because Mark can tell that Eduardo is doing things, even little things, that he thinks will keep Mark safe... but it's Mark, really, who could and would damage someone - seriously damage, telepathy-style, look-ma-no-hands - if they so much as touched a hair on Eduardo's head.

 

Still, not everything is perfect. Mark is still figuring out the boundaries of his powers, navigating things as best he can, and Eduardo's tolerance for having his mind read or influenced is very low. He tries not to get on Mark's case about it, at first, because he is certain that, for the most part, Mark doesn't do it on purpose. It used to be, when Mark was still being persecuted, that it was easy to reign his powers in. Now they want to roam, hither and yon, so Mark hears from Eduardo's mind much more than he means to.

 

It's not his fault. Eduardo is what Mark sort of unofficially calls a 'projector', because it's almost like he broadcasts his thoughts. They're astonishingly easy to 'hear'. Luckily, with Eduardo, what you see and hear on the outside is mostly what you get, and Mark's so used to being tuned into him that most of what he thinks washes over Mark without really sticking anyway.

 

They have their first big fight about it when Mark, nose-deep in a book, absently asks Eduardo a question about something that Eduardo has not spoken to him about.

 

"Is Larissa the one who told me I have Ronald McDonald hair that time via Skype?"

 

Larissa is Eduardo's cousin. They were close before he left Brazil, and they maintain regular contact.

 

"What?" Eduardo stops dead, halfway across the living room, on his way from the kitchen to the stairs leading up to their bedroom. 

 

Mark looks up at him and blinks, with a sudden feeling of foreboding. 

 

"How do you know I've been worried about Larissa?" Eduardo asks carefully.

 

Mark shrugs, trying to back away from the pre-confrontational way Eduardo is looking at him. "I don't."

 

"She was in a car accident." Eduardo's gaze is fixed on Mark. "She's in the hospital. I got a call from my aunt this morning but I didn't tell you."

 

"Did I say anything about any of that?" Mark cautiously sets his book aside, sensing that this is going to get worse before it gets better. "It was just a question. She just crossed my mind. That's all."

 

"You've been doing that a lot lately." There is dead silence, and then Eduardo adds, "The things that cross my mind are the things that cross your mind now."

 

"No." Mark can see the disbelief in Eduardo's face; even _he's_ not that dense. "Wardo, no."

 

"Don't lie to me, Mark. I've been really patient about this and it is not fair. It's like you're not even  _trying_  to reign it in."

 

"Of course I'm trying to reign it in," Mark says, which is almost totally a lie, but it's more complex than that, okay?

 

"Do you understand how much of an invasion of privacy it is? It's a  _violation_ , to do that to someone."

 

It only goes downhill from there. Maybe someone savvier at dealing with people than Mark could have salvaged it, but for someone who can read minds, he's astonishingly non-prescient about these things. Eduardo storms out fifteen minutes later, and Mark can feel the way the usually pleasant hum of Eduardo's mind has become an angry buzz that reaches out across the distance between them, and taunts Mark as the very thing that is causing a rift.

 

_2030 - U.S._

 

Sean throws himself into the apartment with such a startling crash that you’d never know he had a key and could open the door with much less violence. Mark looks up, frowning, from his laptop, but Eduardo is already moving. He catches Mark’s elbow and lifts him out of his seat at the same time as Sean crosses the apartment to the closet next to the desk and yanks two plain canvas backpacks off the top shelf.

 

“Hurry,” Erica says as she strides in the front door in Sean’s wake, slams it shut behind her, and waits there next to it with her gun cocked and ready.

 

“Yeah, fuck, they’re right on our heels – ” Sean begins, but there’s the sound of screeching tires outside and there’s no _time._

 

Eduardo pushes through layers of junk piled into the closet under a rack of long, dark overcoats that he never wears, not since the closet became their last line of defense. When he reaches the bare back wall, he presses his palm flat to the base of it; a small door clicks and slides out of the way.

 

“Don’t fuck this up, Saverin,” Sean warns.

 

“I know.”

 

Sean thrusts the backpacks at them, one for Eduardo and one for Mark, and as soon as they’re through the door, he shoves it closed behind them. They can hear him re-piling all of the junk in front of it and slamming the closet door. After that, the sounds become muffled.

 

“They found us,” Mark says, unnecessarily. “I had thought we’d have more time.”

 

“Someone sold us out,” Eduardo says immediately.

 

“Who?” No one knew where they were holed up; no one except Sean and Erica, and both of them have put their lives at risk a number of times now for Mark.

 

Eduardo doesn’t have an answer for that. Instead, he indicates that Mark should follow and leads the way down through the floor and into the underground tunnels that lead to the sewer.

 

They stop to rest when they are three or four hours’ trek from the apartment. There are drones that patrol the main sewer tunnels, but Mark has an uncanny knack for recognizing the dissonance in the air when they approach, and so far the two of them have managed to stay out of the way. Sinking down onto the damp bricks in a side tunnel, Mark wishes for his laptop.

 

When he says this aloud, Eduardo shakes his head. “Sean will have smashed it.”

 

Mark knows it’s true, the way he knows that Sean and Erica are very likely in separate interrogation rooms down at the police station right now, where if they don’t provide satisfactory answers – and they won’t, because Sean doesn’t cooperate with the cops on principle and Erica knows very well what’s at stake – they’ll be dragged into another, less accommodating room, where people don’t often come out.

 

Mark doesn’t really mourn for people – and there are a lot of people in his life that he could mourn for – but he thinks he will mourn for them.

 

“You should have a nap,” Eduardo says.

 

“I don’t need a nap,” Mark answers, irritated with everything.

 

“You know what happens when you don’t sleep enough,” Eduardo tells him, and Mark scowls but does as he’s told. When he doesn’t sleep enough, his mind wanders. And with the strange tides in Mark’s brain, no one wants that.

 

As he’s drifting off to sleep, he hears the distinct sound of Eduardo settling down next to the entrance of the tunnel and double-checking how many bullets remain in his gun.

 

_2032 - Canada_

 

Sean shakes his head when Mark tells him about the argument. They are at Sean's apartment, because Eduardo has made it miserable to be anywhere near his and Mark's house lately, which is only partially due to the fact that he won't speak to Mark. It's mostly that Mark can very palpably  _feel_  his anger and hurt when they're in close proximity to one another, and the only thing that shuts Eduardo out is distance.

 

Mark's not even sure why this is happening, since he gets nowhere near as clear of a broadcast from anyone else. Even Sean's mind is murky unless Mark really pushes, and Mark has known him for about as long as he's known Eduardo, or longer.

 

"You built up a lot of control when we were south of the border, but we were always working on extending your powers, not limiting them," Sean points out. "And you feel - I mean, pretty strongly about Saverin, right? So his thoughts are amplified for you and we haven't figured out yet how to help you build some walls up in there."

 

"I can't concentrate while he's - swarming around like a furious cloud of bees," Mark says in irritation, waving a hand by his ear like the way he hears Eduardo's rage can be dissipated as easily as that. "How am I supposed to build anything while he's basically invading my consciousness with all of his -  _feelings_?"

 

Sean has to laugh at the way Mark says the word  _feelings_  like it's something certifiably disgusting. "So make amends," he says with a shrug. "Then figure out the walls. Hey, you never know; Saverin doesn't have mind powers, but you might be able to teach him to build walls of his own. Make it easier for you. Right?"

 

Mark nods, because that makes sense, but it's definitely easier said than done. At the end of the day, Mark tries not to feel guilty for taking the easy way out.

 

\--

 

When Sean comes by a couple of days later to raid their fridge and their DVD collection, he has heard nothing from Mark about resolving things or wall-building or anything like that. He is surprised to find Eduardo making lunch for Mark, talking easily to him as Mark distractedly reads the paper. Eduardo greets him mid-sentence and continues talking; Mark gives him a lazy wave without looking at him. Snagging an apple from the fruit bowl, Sean waves the fruit at them.

 

"Glad to see you two kissed and made up."

 

Eduardo glances at Sean in surprise, then at Mark, his smile growing uncertain. "Made up?"

 

Sean takes a bite out of the apple. "Yeah. From your - you know, your beef over Mark's party trick." Which is Sean's way of referencing telepathy without sounding like a total dork.

 

"We... haven't really fallen out over that," Eduardo says, puzzled. "I mean, I don't like it when I can tell he's been poking around in my brain, but we haven't really had anything knock-down and drag-out yet." He glances at Mark for confirmation.

 

That's when Sean looks at Mark, too, and sees the way Mark's eyes are drilling holes in him over his newspaper.

 

"Sean, we should talk," Mark says, and Sean replies, "Yeah, probably a good plan", and follows Mark out into the hall.

 

"He doesn't remember," Mark says immediately.

 

"And why's that?" Sean asks, because if Mark means what he thinks Mark means, he's definitely just made the problem a hundred times worse. 

 

"Why do you think?" Mark asks, and already he's folding his arms defensively, like he knows what Sean's going to say. 

 

Sean says it anyway, of course. "Dude, he flipped when he found out you were doing a little accidental, harmless mind-reading. What do you think he's going to do when he finds out you  _altered his memories_?"

 

"Well, unless you tell him, he'll never know," Mark says, and there is almost a challenge in his voice.

 

"I'm not going to tell him," Sean replies, because he's not; he's Mark's friend, not Eduardo's (although they get along better now than they used to), and it's not his business anyway. "But Mark, man, think about yourself for a minute. This is one fuck of a slippery slope. I mean, are you even going to be happy with a guy whose mind you manipulate just to get out of apologizing?"

 

"It's not like that," Mark says, a dangerous edge in his voice.

 

"Kind of it is, though," Sean answers, unfazed. "I mean, whatever, man, it's your relationship. But he's not going to be independent, occasionally super irritating, straight-laced Saverin anymore. He's going to be... you know, whatever you program him to be. Might as well live with a computer." He claps a hand on Mark's shoulder. "But hey, whatever makes you happy."

 

He's almost out of the room before he stops and says, "By the way. If you get too crazy with that party trick, you know I'm gonna have to stop you."

 

He says it lightly, but Mark knows that Sean is deadly serious. The guy has a tendency toward obnoxiousness but he's one of the good guys. If Mark ever turned into some super-villain cliche, Sean would hunt him down. But Sean doesn't have to worry, because this isn't the first step toward super-villainry, this is just Mark making things slightly easier for himself. 

 

Mark doesn't say anything in response, and Sean simply walks away.

 

_2030 - U.S._

 

Mark awakens with the panic of not being able to breathe. He struggles for one lightning-ridden second before Eduardo’s voice echoes inside of his mind.

 

_Don’t move. I heard something in the main tunnel._

 

Eduardo never speaks to Mark like this, because the disparity exists where Mark can pick up on other peoples’ thoughts but Eduardo cannot. Among a very many subtle things that bother Eduardo about one-sided telepathic conversations, Eduardo never knows if Mark’s heard him or not. He can only tell now because Mark very suddenly goes still. Eduardo takes his hand off of Mark’s mouth and eases away through the semi-dark, weapon in hand.

 

Soon it becomes clear to Mark what Eduardo has heard. There is the sound of what are very clearly footsteps walking through the main tunnel, although the person, whoever they are, keeps missing the walkway and half-sliding into the water. Mark reaches out with his mind, and suddenly he scrambles to his knees.

 

“ _Wardo_ ,” he hisses, and Eduardo freezes. “I think it’s…”

 

“Thank sweet baby Jesus,” Sean says, and the tension visibly melts out of Eduardo’s shoulders. Sean and Erica limp into view, and then Mark realizes why they’re walking so oddly; Erica’s been shot, just above the knee, and she’s leaning on Sean for support. The main tunnels were never meant to support two people walking side-by-side.

 

Eduardo springs into action at once, helping Sean lower Erica to the ground. She grits her teeth, but she doesn’t complain as Eduardo crouches next to her and examines her wound.

 

“This isn’t good,” Eduardo says.

 

“It could be worse,” Erica grinds out.

 

Nobody argues with that.

 

Eduardo snags the packs they brought and rummages through the first one. Locating a First Aid box, he pops it open and looks inside.

 

“I can take the bullet out,” he offers.

 

“I’ll do it,” Mark says suddenly. Eduardo isn’t good with things like this; he had to give Mark stitches once, and his hands shook so badly that Mark ended up finishing them himself. His anxiety about getting it right gets the better of him. And Mark privately thinks that Eduardo also isn’t that excited about blood.

 

“Oh – no,” Erica says, like Mark has suggested they all immediately voyage to the moon. “Let Eduardo do it.”

 

“Compromise – I’ll do it.” Sean takes the First Aid kit right out of Eduardo’s hands.

 

“What’s the situation outside?” Eduardo asks, settling back against the wall of the tunnel and watching Sean work.

 

“Not good,” Sean replies. “There are cops everywhere. Drones, too. Everyone’s got their eyes peeled for Mark Zuckerberg, whose charming mug shot is all over the media.”

 

“Is it safe for anyone else to leave the tunnels?” Mark asks.

 

“Well.” Sean considers it. “Depends on the circumstance. We definitely need to figure out what’s what before we make a break for the city walls. Some recon wouldn’t go amiss.”

 

“Well, Sean and Erica are – known to the police when you’re together,” Eduardo points out, which is true; this is not their first run-in with the boys in blue. “Mark is in the most danger. But I can go.”

 

“What?” Mark says, at the same time as Sean answers, “True.”

 

“Thousands of immigrants flood into this city every day,” Sean reminds Mark. “Put Wardo here in a ball cap and old t-shirt and he’ll fit right in.”

 

“ _Spanish_ -speaking immigrants,” Mark says.

 

Eduardo shrugs. “I don’t need to speak to anyone. But someone needs to do recon.”

 

“How do you know you won’t be recognized?” Mark folds his arms.

 

“Because we’ve been hiding from law enforcement for a long time,” Eduardo says. “You and I are never seen together. Every time we hole up, I’m the one who runs errands because it’s safer that way. They know we – that I frequently travel with you, but there aren’t widely circulated pictures of me. We know that because you checked the police servers after we broke you out of the hospital.”

 

Mark frowns, but then Sean cheerfully says, “I’ll go, too.”

 

Erica looks crestfallen. Thinking about it, Eduardo figures that hanging out alone with your ex-boyfriend in a sewer after having been shot is fairly unfortunate.

 

“All right.” Eduardo shrugs out of his suit jacket, to be less conspicuous in the area of town he’s headed to. Mark mutely tugs his hoodie over his head and hands it to him, to wear over the lilac dress shirt Eduardo just ironed this morning. Eduardo reaches past the hoodie, tugs Mark toward him, and kisses him.

 

“If we’re not back in two hours, go somewhere we can’t give you away.”

 

“Something less morose,” Sean volunteers as a farewell.

 

Mark doesn’t reply as Eduardo tucks his gun into the back of his pants, under the hoodie, and leaves the tunnel, Sean following in his wake. He doesn’t need to say anything, he thinks.  _Eduardo knows._

_  
__2032 - Canada_

 

It is two more days before Mark confesses what he's done.

 

Eduardo looks so horrified that Mark has a very, very brief moment where all he wants is to make Eduardo forget this, too. But he doesn't, because Sean is sometimes right about things, and Mark loves Eduardo because he's  _Eduardo_ , annoyances and all.

 

Eduardo barely says anything. In the few days where Eduardo wasn't upset with him, Mark had time to tentatively attempt to build some mental barriers, but they aren't enough to keep the tsunami of horror and revulsion and grief and shame and  _rage_  that emanate from Eduardo's mind. Mark is pretty sure that he had this coming, anyway, so he probably doesn't deserve to keep it out.

 

"Thanks for not making me stay," Eduardo says, his voice brittle and cold as ice as he pauses on his way out their bedroom door.

 

"I wouldn't," Mark replies, and Eduardo shakes his head slightly as he leaves.

 

\--

 

Eduardo has no qualms about showing up at Sean's place with his suitcase. Well, he might have a qualm or two, but he has nowhere else to go; they haven't been in Canada long enough for him to have made many other friends, and besides, he doesn't really trust people that he hasn't first-hand witnessed trying to save Mark's ass, or his. That's kind of what happens when you have to go on the run from government agencies running highly sophisticated research facilities that would cut open your boyfriend's head without even acknowledging he's human. 

 

It's kind of sad, because Eduardo used to trust everyone. Now he can't even trust Mark.

 

Sean lets him in without saying anything, although he does raise an eyebrow at the size of Eduardo's suitcase. He can't tell if it means that Eduardo plans to stay awhile, or if Eduardo's overnight bag is just so jam-packed with hair products and most likely an ironing board that it  _looks_  like a month-long-stay-type of bag. Sean indicates that Eduardo can toss his things on the sofa, since that's where he'll be sleeping, and Eduardo mutely obliges. 

 

"Where's Erica?" He asks, when he's done.

 

Erica is the woman who helped Sean break Mark out of the research facility where he was being held back in California. She is a tough, incredibly smart woman, for whom Eduardo has a lot of respect, if not much genuine affection. Erica is a bit of a mystery to him. The only person whose company she seems to legitimately enjoy is Sean's, which Eduardo will never understand.

 

"No idea," Sean replies. "Out?"

 

"Do you think she'll be okay with me staying here?"

 

Sean shrugs. "Ask her, bro. I'm her roommate, not her mind-reader. That's Mark's job." To his credit, he looks slightly guilty after the last comment.

 

Eduardo gives him a look, but he lets that one slide, because Sean is so weird about this Erica situation and Eduardo would rather deal with other people's drama than his own right now. "Your roommate that you sleep with," he corrects.

 

"Me and Erica?" Sean looks genuinely surprised. "Never."

 

Eduardo has to raise an eyebrow at that, because this is  _Sean_. "Really? Why not?"

 

Sean still looks surprised. "Because she doesn't want to?"

 

Eduardo gives him a pitying look - Sean is not usually this oblivious - which puts Sean a little bit on the defensive since usually it's him antagonizing Eduardo, not vice versa.

 

"Anyway," he says, rubbing his hands together, "speaking of twenty fucking weird questions, wanna get high and talk about the Zuckerberg situation?"

 

"No?" Eduardo doesn't want to talk about anything with Sean, ever.

 

"Would you rather talk about the Zuckerberg situation  _not_  high?"

 

Eduardo quails. "I don't want to talk about it at all."

 

"Well, there is no door number three, because you can't live here forever and sooner or later Mark is going to get unbearably bitchy, and you're always sort of unbearably bitchy, so I actually can't handle dealing with both of you at once," Sean informs him brightly. "Let's get baked, dude, come on. It'll make this way easier."

 

Fifteen minutes later, they are sitting on the balcony outside of Sean's bedroom, and Eduardo is dully counting all the rooftops he can see as Sean gives him a rambling speech about how he and Mark met, back before the facility, when Mark's powers were still just an uncanny ability to guess how many fingers someone was holding up behind their back. Back when it really  _was_  just a party trick.

 

"Man," Sean says, shaking his head affectionately. "That guy, am I right?"

 

Eduardo glances at him, in no mood to be jollied. "You knew he altered my memories and you didn't say anything."

 

Sean tosses the roach off the balcony and falls silent for a moment. So they're here. They've reached the point of no return. "Yeah. I know. You know how it is, Wardo - "

 

But it turns out that that is not the point Eduardo wants to press after all. "If he altered that much, how much else did he change? What if there are things - what if there were other times - " Eduardo is looking out over the rooftops again, but this time he's not counting them; this time he hardly sees them.

 

"It was just the once," Sean tells him.

 

"What about further back? What if he changed things from my childhood - he hates my father, what if he altered things, experiences, the way I perceive - "

 

Sean is firm this time. "He didn't. Saverin. He didn't change anything else."

 

"How do you know?" Eduardo demands.

 

"Because he would've told me," Sean says simply.

 

"And I'm supposed to trust that you'd pass it along to me?" Eduardo sounds bitter, but of course Sean never told him about the memory-altering to begin with, so it's not without cause. 

 

"I am bullshitting you eighty per cent of the time," Sean admits, "but I'm not doing it now. Listen. He can hear your thoughts like, crystal clear now. I guess the way we jacked up his power when we needed it, when we were getting out of the States, made him hyper-sensitive. He's not doing it on purpose but I get that it gives you the wiggens that he does it."

 

"What does that have to do with anything?" Eduardo asks, and he's unpleasantly startled to realize that Mark's never told him any of this.

 

"What I'm saying is, he never had the juice to go in and change your memories before, and he never had the motivation." Sean waves a hand. "Now when you're angry at him, you're like a swarm of bees that lives in his brain. Quote-unquote. He took the quickest possible route to making you stop doing that so he could figure out how to build some walls to keep you out all the time."

 

"Hang on," Eduardo says, and he looks puzzled and hurt and angry and affronted, but he's looked that way for a while now. "He's in  _my_  head. Not the other way around."

 

"Yeah, but you're, like... it's like someone tied his bedroom doorknob to all the other doorknobs on the same side of the hall and then turned on  _Best of Techno 1994_  outside of his room at full blast. He can't get out to turn it off. It's incessant noise."

 

Eduardo looks, if possible, more affronted than before, but he doesn't seem to know what to say.

 

"What's weird to me, though," Sean continues, "is that it's just you that gives him so much trouble. It's like you're amplified for him for some reason."

 

Eduardo looks away. "Yeah - I. I don't know."

 

He does. But his heart-to-heart with Sean fucking Parker is over.

 

_2030 - U.S._

 

Sean and Eduardo have been gone for a long time on their recon mission when Mark catches himself on the wall; staggers a moment; rights himself.

 

Something has happened to Eduardo.

 

He knows, because when Eduardo’s mind is out of range, it is like falling asleep with music in your ears; when your iPod runs out of batteries, you wake up, suddenly conscious of the lack of sound. Mark is so accustomed to the hum of Eduardo’s mind now, that particular signature that is uniquely him in all the world, that when it stops abruptly, he feels disoriented.

 

Erica, who is squatting at the tunnel entrance tossing pebbles into the water flowing past, spins around. “What? What happened?”

 

Her concern is like the piercing sound of an ambulance cutting at Mark, and he throws up a hand. She abruptly backs up.

 

“Mark? Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Mark says, tensely.

 

“What do you mean – ” Erica begins, but Mark cuts her off, frustrated.

 

“I can hear – you like someone turned the volume up,” he snaps. “Because Eduardo is gone.”

 

Erica stares at him. “What does that mean, Eduardo is _gone_?”

 

“It means that the sound he makes, the sound he’s always making, that I’m tuned into, is gone. So everything else is coming crowding in. Normally I can hold it back. Now I can hear – I can almost hear complete thoughts from people on the street above us.”

 

Erica strides toward him to catch his wrist, because he’s shaking. “Mark, there’s fifteen feet of earth, brick, and asphalt between us and them.”

 

“I know,” Mark says. “I know.”

 

Erica is wide-eyed, searching his face.

 

“Eduardo’s my – ” Mark struggles, not even looking at Erica, his eyes skating back and forth just under her chin. “When you put on headphones and listen to a song you like so that you can focus without hearing other people talking.”

 

Erica almost looks like she wants to tell him how strangely sweet that is, but she’s still stuck on his words:

 

“What did you mean, Mark? When you said Eduardo is gone? What makes him gone?”

 

“I – I – ” Mark’s eyes track to her face and abruptly focus. “The lab. In the lab, they had these walls. I couldn’t hear a thing. They blocked some kinds of brain waves.”

 

“Oh, Jesus.” Erica looks back over her shoulder at the mouth of the tunnel, like Sean and Eduardo might suddenly arrive. “I really hope they’re not in the lab.”

 

“They’re in the lab,” Mark says. “I know they are.”

 

“You can’t _know_ that, Mark,” Erica begins, but the look on Mark’s face stops her in her tracks.

 

“There is only one other instance in which I wouldn’t be able to get a reading on Eduardo.” Mark’s eyes are a void. “Either they’re in the lab, or Eduardo is dead.”

 

“Oh, Mark.” Erica reaches for him, but he turns away.

 

“We have to get them out,” he says flatly.

 

“If you go back in there, you’re as good as caught,” Erica tells him. “And this time, they won’t give you a chance to escape. They’ll cut you open and find out what makes you tick the second you set foot in there.”

 

“They won’t let Eduardo and Sean go unless they give us up,” Mark says, his hands clenched, his back to her still. “And they won’t. They both know what’s at stake.”

 

“And Sean never met an authority figure he didn’t want to annoy the shit out of, I know. Mark. Look at me.” Erica’s eyes are fixed on his back, but she’s afraid to touch him. “Please. Let’s just sit down and think about this like adult, rational people.”

 

“Fine.” But he doesn’t move.

 

Erica sighs. “I don’t want to leave them, either. But what _choice_ do we have?”

 

“They didn’t leave me,” Mark replies, sounding final.

 

There’s nothing Erica can say to that, so she turns and goes back to the mouth of the tunnel. This time, she doesn’t throw stones; she just crouches, as though waiting.

 

\--

 

Eduardo wakes up in a lot more pain than he typically likes to wake up in. Initially, everything is hazy, which is why he tries to reach up and rub his eyes only to discover that his hands are tied behind his back.

 

"We’re tied together," the voice of Sean Parker supplies helpfully.

 

Eduardo tugs at his hands again and discovers that it’s true; he and (presumably) Sean are back to back, sitting on a cold, concrete floor, and the rope binding their hands together weaves in between their wrists.

 

"Shit," Eduardo says succinctly.

 

"Yep," Sean agrees. He leans over - far enough that Eduardo just knows he’s doing it on purpose, so that Eduardo has to lean too - and spits something out onto the floor. It bounces into Eduardo’s view: a tooth.

 

"Just this morning, I was thinking to myself,  _Sean, you have too many fucking molars_. This is great timing," Sean says.

 

"So where are we?" Eduardo asks, ignoring him and looking around for clues, but all three walls that he can see look the same.

 

"I don’t know, but I kind of want to bounce. Help me stand up."

 

Sean pushes against Eduardo’s back, and belatedly, Eduardo realizes what he’s doing and pushes back. They use each other’s weight to climb awkwardly to their feet, and Eduardo feels a rush of unpleasant tingles from having been seated for so long.

 

Sean starts to turn in a slow circle, and Eduardo, who doesn’t have a choice in the matter, follows his lead.

 

"I feel like we’re lacking some key amenities," Sean says of the windowless, furniture-less room.

 

"No cameras watching us," Eduardo points out.

 

"That we can see," Sean adds.

 

Eduardo approaches the door, pulling Sean with him so he can get a better look at the tiny, barred window that looks out into an equally featureless corridor.

 

"One a scale of one to fucked, how fucked are we?" Sean inquires, glancing back over his shoulder.

 

"Uh." Eduardo peers as far as he can down the corridor, but he can see no one and nothing else. "Pretty fucked."

 

"Awesome."

 

Sean pulls Eduardo away from the bars. "Kneel, Saverin. I want to see if they stole my knife."

 

Eduardo does as he’s told, although with difficulty; one of his knees is swollen and sore, and though he only hazily remembers the beating that caused it, he knows it was pretty brutal – even as far as police beatings go, nowadays.

 

Sean wriggles around with difficulty, reaching into his sock.

 

“Is it there?” Eduardo asks.

 

“It is not,” Sean replies at last. “Well, onto Plan B.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“Oh, no, it’s your turn now.” Sean settles down onto the floor again, forcing Eduardo to join him. “Wow me with your genius, Saverin.”

 

“You’re right, it’s going to be hard to follow the nonexistent knife.”

 

“Hey, usually step one of all of my strategies is ‘don’t get caught’,” Sean protests. “That’s what the paranoia’s for. At no point did I schedule myself a stop at the cop shop.”

 

“I didn’t know you had strategies,” Eduardo says. “I thought it was more like one of those things where everyone else creates a really detailed, meticulous plan and you get bored and wander off and get your head stuck in the bannister.”

 

Sean snorts. “I do have a long and storied history with bannisters.”

 

“Here’s an idea,” Eduardo offers. “How about we wait for them to come in and then declare our constitutional right not to be held without being charged for longer than twenty-four hours?”

 

There’s a beat. Then Sean cracks up and Eduardo grins.

 

“Right. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that,” Sean says.

 

“Maybe we could demand to talk to a lawyer,” Eduardo continues. Sean almost chokes with laughter.

 

“Yeah, right after we use our phone call to get Mark to come down here and post our bail.”

 

They remain in shared amusement for a moment before Eduardo’s head drops onto his knees.

 

“We’re so fucked.”

 

Sean expels a breath, his grin lingering. “ _So_ fucked.”

 

_2032 - Canada_

 

“So what are you going to do about Mark?”

 

It’s evening, and Erica is sitting on the couch, knees bent and toes against the side of the coffee table. Jeopardy is on; it’s been on syndication forever. Erica and Eduardo have a semi-rivalry going on over who knows more answers.

 

“I don’t know,” Eduardo says honestly.

 

“I’d brain him with something heavy and leave him for dead if he did that to me,” Erica says.

 

“I know you would.” Mark and Erica have a history; Eduardo doesn’t know what it is, but he gathers it’s not all unicorns and rainbows.

 

“Do you see yourself going back to him?” Erica is good at asking blunt questions like that without coming across as offensive.

 

Eduardo fiddles with the edge of his sleeve. “It’s hard to – to still love someone that you know you can’t trust. I don’t know what will happen if I go back. I don’t know if I’ll have to start keeping track of events in a – I don’t know, a notebook or something just so that I can tell if Mark’s messed with my memory again.”

 

Erica nods. “Well. The reason why I asked was this: After someone betrays your trust, you have a choice. You can choose to trust them again, or you can choose not to. It’s about whether you value your thing with Mark enough to choose to trust him again even though he doesn’t have a right to expect that.”

 

“What happened between you and him?” Eduardo asks suddenly.

 

Erica glances at the TV screen. “It was a long time ago. It’s not important.”

 

“But you still came back and saved his life.”

 

There’s a silence. Then Erica says: “If they’d caught him, they would have weaponized his ability. Everything he’s capable of… imagine the government having access to power like that. I wasn’t doing it for him; I was doing it for the rest of us.”

 

Eduardo doesn’t know what to say to that.

 

It turns out that he doesn’t need to worry about it, because the key in the lock indicates that Sean is home. When he comes into the apartment, Eduardo half-rises from the couch.

 

Mark is following in his wake.

 

Sean holds out a hand, as if to ward off Eduardo’s hostility. “Hear me out.”

 

“Why did you bring him here?” Eduardo demands.

 

“Because something’s gotta give,” Sean says. “And I don’t even care if you guys talk it out, but someone’s got to learn to build some walls, either him or you.”

 

Mark folds his arms. Sean already knows how he feels about this. It’s impossible to build anything when Eduardo’s mind is _everywhere_ , filling Mark’s head with an incessant, keening buzz.

 

“That’s not what this is about,” Eduardo says.

 

“Well, okay, but kind of it is,” Sean begins, but Eduardo interrupts.

 

“Building walls isn’t the same as saying, _I trust you._ You don’t have to build walls against someone you trust. I don’t want to build walls and always wonder if Mark’s not breaching them because he doesn’t want to, or because he physically can’t.”

 

Mark stares at Eduardo. “I wouldn’t do it again, Wardo,” he says, like that should be abundantly clear.

 

“I’ll let you know when I believe that,” Eduardo tells him.

 

\--

 

Eduardo comes around two days later, mostly because Sean is insufferable in the interim.

 

_2030 - U.S._

 

Erica, pressed up against the wall of the tunnel with her elbows draped over her knees, only notices what Mark is doing when she feels a tug at the corner of her mind.

 

“What are you doing?” She asks sharply, looking up.

 

Mark looks unsettled. “Did you feel that?”

 

“Of course I felt it.”

 

Mark frowns.

 

Erica’s eyebrows rise. “Are you looking for something?”

 

“No,” Mark says, almost forcefully. “I just wanted to try – I mean. I can read the thoughts people are having now, but if I want to find memories, I have to dig. And I wanted to see if I could do it without the person noticing.”

 

Erica stares at him, seeing a glimmer of what he’s getting at. “Are you practicing? For trying to get into the lab?”

 

“It’s not in I’m worried about,” Mark replies. “It’s getting back out.”

 

“Have you never practiced this before?” Erica asks, because she finds that hard to believe; Mark loves to be the master at things he’s got a natural knack for.

 

Mark doesn’t really look at her. “I spent most of my life trying to close all of the voices out.”

 

“Oh.” Erica supposes that makes sense. It accounts for the awkward way Mark holds himself around people, as though he’s carefully shoring up a wall that they’ll never breach. “I guess it’s probably difficult. Being able to hear what everyone is thinking, all the time.”

 

“You have no idea,” Mark says flatly. “If I hadn’t pulled back, I would have lost my mind.”

 

“And yet now you can do it,” Erica says.

 

“To a limited degree, yes,” Mark agrees. “It helps immensely if Wardo is present. His mind is the filter.”

 

“Does he know that?”

 

Mark lifts one shoulder. “I don’t think so.”

 

Erica considers this for a moment. “Try again,” she says. “This time, don’t – it almost feels like you’re _searching_ for a way in. Don’t look so hard.”

 

Erica goes back to changing her bandage and steadfastly thinks of something else.

 

The tugging is fainter, and Erica lets him in this time, but it feels invasive. She can tell he’s in there.

 

“Stop,” she says abruptly, when it becomes too strange. “You’re acting like my brain is this foreign country. You’re stumbling around and asking for directions. Go in like you belong there. This time I’m going to raise one finger if you tip me off. After five fingers, you have to stop and start again. Do you understand?”

 

Mark bites his lip, and without saying anything, tries again.

 

They do this for over two hours before Erica insists on a break. She’s exhausted, like she’s been hauling hundred-pound weights all day, and she’s _hungry_. If the way Mark practically inhales some of their provisions is any indication, he’s feeling the effects much more strongly than she is.

 

“You’re getting better,” Erica says encouragingly. “I think sometimes I can tell you’re there only because I’m expecting it now.”

 

Mark doesn’t reply, which is essentially akin to agreement.

 

“I was thinking we should try to find out what else you can do,” she says, almost cautiously, like she’s unsure how he’ll react to that.

 

“Maybe.” Mark sounds noncommittal.

 

“Have you tried to do anything else?” If Erica sounds suspicious, it’s because she is.

 

“No,” Mark replies.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I don’t think I can force people to do things, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mark says. “That’s not how my interaction with other peoples’ minds is. Maybe I could do it with a lot of practice, but we don’t have time. And I wouldn’t even know how to begin. And the only people I spend time around are you, Sean, and Eduardo, and I have concerns about causing damage.”

 

Erica watches him thoughtfully. “You think you could cause damage?”

 

Mark shrugs. “I have a certain understanding of how brain waves work, based on my own experiences. If I can get into your mind to read it, I can almost certainly alter your brain waves from the inside in a harmful way.”

 

“Could you send a kind of mass-impact wave?” She asks. “Sorry if this is a stupid question, but you know how this stuff works better than I do. What if you could damage multiple people at once? Even temporarily, Mark; we’ve been waiting for so long for the feds to catch up with you and try to weaponize it. Imagine if _you_ could weaponize it.”

 

Mark considers this for a long time. “I can’t do it from outside the Block,” he says finally. “The walls seem to absorb whatever I try, or they did when I was inside.”

 

“So in order for this to work, the barrier would have to come down or the people we want to impact would have to come outside and meet us.”

 

Mark nods. “Yes. And even then, having never tried it…” He lifts one shoulder. “It’s not a guarantee. Proximity is probably an issue. It usually is. And pin-pointing people isn’t an exact science unless I know them well.”

 

They lapse into silence as they turn over the implications of all of that.

 

_2032 - Canada_

 

"All right. So." Sean claps his hands together. "I figure the easiest thing to do will be for Mark to build walls, because he's got some practice with all that brain mojo."

 

Eduardo folds his arm. "How is that going to help my trust issues?"

 

Sean shrugs. "It's not. That's for you and Zuck to figure out on your own time."

 

Mark opens his mouth to say something, but Sean steamrolls right over him. "Once we've got these walls up, Mark won't have to worry about accidentally overhearing anything. That'll be helpful for those days when, you know, you, Eduardo, want to eviscerate him, which I'm sure is often."

 

"What?" Mark sounds indignant.

 

"The fact that you're puzzled about why he would say that is probably one of the reasons why you have relationship issues to begin with," Erica points out, from where she's lounging on the couch with an undeniable air of  _schadenfreude._

 

"Yes, because you're absolutely flawless and nothing you do ever contributes to the demise of your personal relationships," Mark hisses.

 

"Mark," Eduardo says, and there's no heat in it at all. He just waits for Mark to look at him, and the moment Mark does, flat-eyed, Eduardo looks away. It makes Mark's jaw set, and he seems to forget about whatever it was he was getting into it with Erica about because he simply falls silent.

 

"So," Sean says, attempting to get them back on track. "I know about as much about this as you guys do, but I Googled it and apparently it's not that difficult for someone like Mark to pull this off. He's got all kinds of juice up there, he just has to direct it properly."

 

"In concrete deliverables," Mark says, through gritted teeth, "how is this actually done?"

 

"Well, personally, I think the best way is for you to map out the boundaries," Sean replies. "You know, figure out where you end and everybody else begins so you can figure out  _where_ the fence needs to go. And since we can't physically take Eduardo to Manitoba, or wherever would be far enough for you  _not_ to register him - well, I mean, we  _could_ ship Eduardo to Manitoba - "

 

"I don't do that much snow," Eduardo cuts in, and it makes Sean stare at him because it's almost a joke. Almost.

 

"At any rate," Sean continues, "since that's not part of the immediate plan, I thought the best way to kind of make this happen would be for all of us to kind of - mentally throw ourselves at you."

 

Mark's expression suggests that he thinks this plan is the least-smart thing he's ever heard in his life. 

 

"No, no, don't give me that face," Sean says. "Keep your sass to yourself. What I mean is, I think your fight-or-flight mechanism will kick in, you know? You'll be able to tell where we're meeting your boundaries and set up reinforcements to keep us out."

 

"What if he can't?" Eduardo asks.

 

Sean shrugs. "No harm done, right?  _We're_ not mind-readers, we're not going to be able to actually get into his brain."

 

Eduardo looks like he's still not sure, and Erica, who hasn't spoken in awhile, is wearing an expression that verges on incredulous.

 

"No harm in trying," Sean says. "Right?"

 

Erica kind of rolls her eyes, but she sits up a little straighter, folding her legs beneath her, and fixes her gaze on Mark. "I'm in," she says.

 

"Yeah." Eduardo raises his hand like he wants to drag his fingers through his hair, thinks the better of it, and lowers his hand to his lap again. "Me, too."

 

"Right. So. I think the best way to do this is if I give the go signal at random, so Mark doesn't see it coming." Sean looks around at them all, and no one disagrees, so he takes it as consent and turns to watch Mark.

 

There's a long moment of silence in the room. Then, suddenly, Sean mutters: " _Go._ "

 

Suffice it to say that none of them are expecting it when Eduardo topples backward off his chair and lies sprawled on the rug, not moving.

 

_2030 - U.S._

 

The only light in the room is blinding, and Eduardo keeps his head bowed to avoid looking into it. His hands are cuffed together in his lap, and it’s a relief for his arms that they are no longer held awkwardly behind him and attached to Sean’s. He supposes that Sean is probably in another interrogation room like this one, but Sean doesn’t sit anywhere meekly and he hates authority figures so that session is probably unfurling much more colourfully than this one.

 

“Eduardo, let me help.” The officer is a nondescript older man with thinning hair who seems to be trying to follow the track that Eduardo was coerced into all of this by the fugitive Sean Parker and the dangerous escaped patient Mark Zuckerberg. “Every second that Mark is loose, he’s a danger to himself and everyone else. If we could bring him in, he’d get the best care, I promise.”

 

Eduardo worries at his lip. “Every second that Mark is loose is another second he gets closer to the border,” he says. “You’re wasting your time.”

 

The officer sits back. “Is that so? Which border is that?”

 

Eduardo smiles, and it hurts because of his split lip. “Does it matter? He’s going somewhere where he has basic human rights. He’s sick of being a lab rat.”

 

All of this is easy because it isn’t really a lie. Eventually, they _will_ make a break for Canada, when things calm down and Mark’s face isn’t everywhere.

 

“I’m just not sure that he’s not still in town,” the officer says. “Based on what I know about your history, I’m hard-pressed to believe that he would just leave you and Parker to your respective fates.”

 

Eduardo couldn’t say whether that’s true or not – Mark is unpredictable when it comes to these things – but he just looks blankly at him. The officer sighs.

 

“What he can do is very dangerous. In the wrong hands, what kind of damage could that power do?”

 

“The only person whose hands that power is in is Mark’s,” Eduardo tells him.

 

“Eduardo.” The officer’s tone of voice is that patronizing, _let’s be realistic_ type, and it infuriates Eduardo.

 

“ _What_ makes you think that your hands are the right hands?” Eduardo returns, lightning-quick. “This is the country that dropped the atom bomb on Japan, that invaded Iraq and killed a hundred thousand civilians based on faulty intel, that continues to run a horrific off-shore prison at Guantanamo Bay.”

 

The officer surveys him for a long moment. “I keep forgetting you’re not an American.”

 

“Really? It’s un-American to call out the government’s brutal track record on human rights?” Eduardo is both amused and disgusted. “For the record, I _am_ an American. I’ve had citizenship for almost ten years.”

 

“We can fix that.”

 

Eduardo’s eyebrows rise. “You’re going to have me deported? For what, exactly?”

 

“I’ve found that attaching Mark Zuckerberg’s name to anything gets me high-level approval pretty quick,” the officer replies. “Don’t give me a reason, Eduardo. I’m just trying to help.”

 

Eduardo settles into his chair, surveying the officer. “You’ll never find him,” he promises, and there is a surprising amount of open hostility in his voice. “And I will _never_ help you do it.”

 

\--

 

When Eduardo wakes up, he really doesn’t _want_ to. There is an unpleasant edge to his headache that he knows he won’t be able to ignore enough to go back to sleep. One of his eyes is swollen almost shut, and his cheek aches from being pressed against the concrete floor. Without warning, his whole body convulses and he throws up. He’s in too much pain and his hands are bound too tightly for him to climb into his hands and knees, so he simply lays there on his side and vomits until he’s retching but nothing is coming out.

 

Behind him, the door to his cell opens and closes. Eduardo squeezes his eyes shut and listens to the sound of his own shallow breathing.

 

“Hey.” There’s a hand on his shoulder, and then Sean is rolling Eduardo onto his back and shining a horrendously bright flashlight into his eyes. “Dude. Your pupils are _blown_. I think you have a concussion.”

 

“Fantastic,” Eduardo says weakly. Then, as it registers that Sean is free: “How did you get in here?”

 

“A little bit of opportunity and a ton of panache,” Sean says cheerfully, freeing Eduardo’s hands and dragging him into an upright seated position. Eduardo wipes the side of his face with his sleeve, feeling a new throb in his skull as the blood rushes to his head.

 

“Which means what?”

 

Sean grins. “It was a mistake for them to put me in handcuffs. It might take me a few hours to loosen a rope enough to get my hands out, but I can pick a set of cuffs in a minute.”

 

Eduardo allows himself to be impressed as Sean drags him to his feet and steadies him. “So you’re not entirely useless,” he says.

 

“Says the guy whose escape plan consisted of puking into his own hair.” Sean pulls Eduardo to the door and looks out into the corridor. There’s an officer sprawled on the floor; Sean grabs him by the wrists and drags him inside the cell. Eduardo follows Sean into the hallway and pulls the cell door shut behind him, imprisoning the unconscious guard.

 

“What next?” Eduardo asks.

 

Sean doesn’t even reply; he just takes off. Eduardo follows.

 

\--

 

At the first few junction points, where one corridor meets another, Sean doesn’t even hesitate; he takes off like he knows where he’s going, and it’s only when they’ve done this three or four times that Eduardo realizes that Sean just keeps taking left turns.

 

“Do you know how to get out of here?” He asks.

 

“Nope,” Sean replies. “I figured we’d walk until we found something promising.”

 

Eduardo stops in his tracks. “Are you kidding?”

 

Sean glances back at him. “There aren’t a lot of copies of the Block’s entire blueprints lying around. I figure that if we keep turning left, we’ll eventually get somewhere.”

 

“Or we’ll walk in giant circles,” Eduardo says. Trust Sean to have the least-organized prison break ever. “We’re going to get caught.”

 

“Maybe,” Sean says. He pats his hip, where he’s tucked the guard’s TASER into the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t worry, Saverin. I’ll defend your honour.”

 

The sound of distant voices makes Eduardo grab Sean’s sleeve and pull him into an unlit passage that runs perpendicular to the main corridor.

 

“Did you tell them anything about Mark?” Eduardo asks in a whisper, as they wait for the talkers to pass – two scientists, as it happens, in white jackets, so engrossed in the chart they’re poring over that they don’t even come close to noticing the two shadows pressed to the wall in the darkened passage to their right.

 

“Of course not,” Sean whispers back. “And we’re going to follow those guys, let’s move.”

 

Eduardo doesn’t have time to protest before Sean is edging down the main corridor. Eduardo suppresses an intense flash of irritation and follows.

 

It’s not that hard to follow the two scientists because they rarely look up and they never stop talking, so Sean simply waits until they’ve turned a corner, and then he follows the sound of their voices down. Eduardo notices that the doors they start passing are no longer simply locked; they’ve got numerical keypads, and some of them have darkened glass that reminds Eduardo of a two-way mirror. Every room is dark, though, so looking through the glass avails him nothing.

 

The journey of the two scientists ends at the first lit room they come to. They pass into the room, and the sound of their voices stops abruptly when the door closes behind them. Eduardo turns to Sean to ask him what now, but Sean is standing, transfixed, in front of a long window, made of the same darkened glass Eduardo has been seeing for the past dozen or so doors.

 

“Saverin, come look at this.”

 

Eduardo has a sudden sense of foreboding as he joins Sean at the window. The room beyond the window seems to be some kind of hospital room. There’s someone sitting in a chair much like the one at a dentist’s office, except that her wrists and ankles are strapped to it. There’s a device on her head with copper wires running to a nearby machine. Even as Sean and Eduardo watch, the girl convulses, and Eduardo knows what they’re looking at.

 

“This is what happened to Mark.”

 

Sean blinks. “What?”

 

“This is exactly what they did to Mark.” The faint horror of realization steals over Eduardo. He looks back along the corridor, at all of those doors with their dark glass; their two-way mirrors, like the kind you install so you can watch someone without them being able to see you. “They don’t set up the kind of barriers they set up to keep Mark from using his powers for just one person.”

 

Sean shakes his head, unable to avert his eyes from the girl behind the glass. “Jesus.”

 

Eduardo has to turn away, _has_ to, because this girl could be Mark, she could be the love of someone else’s life and what they’re doing to her is not something you do to other living, breathing, sentient human beings.

 

“Are you surprised that there are more of them?” Sean asks.

 

“Did you know?” Eduardo demands, rounding on Sean because who else can he helplessly rage at?

 

“No. But I wasn’t naïve enough to think that it wasn’t a possibility. Look at the fucking size of this place, Saverin. There were innocent people held prisoner in here before Mark, and there’ll be more long after he’s booked it north.”

 

Eduardo doesn’t even have the inclination or wherewithal to process that, not with the way his head is pounding. “How can we let this happen?”

 

Sean can’t tell if Eduardo means _we_ as in them personally, or as in human beings. He guesses it doesn’t really matter. “This is fucked up. Saverin, we’ve gotta _go_.”

 

“We can’t,” Eduardo says. “Sean, _how many are there_?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sean replies. “But there are only two of us, which is more to the point: What are we supposed to do?”

 

Eduardo knows. He’s surprised at how fast the knowledge comes to him, and how certain he is.

 

“We have to shut down the barrier,” he says.

 

“What?” Sean looks like he thinks Eduardo may have totally fucking lost it. “That’s going to be high-level security shit, Saverin. They’re not just going to leave the controls for the barrier laying around where anyone can get to it.”

 

“There are other people like Mark,” Eduardo tells him, “barricaded up in here. Having their brains picked apart.”

 

“We don’t know that for absolute certain,” Sean replies.

 

“We _do_ ,” Eduardo says. “I don’t know how we didn’t imagine this was true before. Of course there are. They didn’t create the lab for Mark; the lab was already here. There was already a fully-fledged facility to take him to as soon as they caught him, we just never thought about the implications of that.”

 

Sean shakes his head. “We can’t save these people. It’s sad, Saverin, I know it is, but we can’t.”

 

Eduardo has already made his decision. “As long as the barrier is up, they can’t help themselves,” he says. “Mark always said it, that barrier stopped him from using his powers even if he’d wanted to. We have to bring down the barrier.”

 

“We don’t even know where it is,” Sean argues. “We don’t even know where _we_ are.”

 

“We don’t need to know where it is,” Eduardo points out. “It’s all run by computer, it must be. Are you a hacker or not?”

 

Sean stares at him, a glimmer of something in his eyes. Then: “Okay, Saverin. Find me a computer.”

 

_2032 - Canada_

 

"Eduardo?" That's Erica's voice, first, and then Sean is next to him, shaking him.

 

"Wardo? Buddy, wake up."

 

Eduardo doesn't respond at all.

 

"Shit." Sean looks at Erica, who raises an eyebrow at him.

 

" _No harm in trying?_ " She quotes back at him.

 

"I - " Sean glances back over his shoulder, realizing with a start that Mark hasn't come over to them yet. He's still sitting on the couch, watching them with inscrutable eyes. "Mark, what happened?"

 

Mark gives an almost imperceptible shrug, and it's then that Sean looks down and sees the way his hands are shaking, just a little. "He asked me to do it."

 

Erica looks sharply at him. "Asked you to do what?"

 

Mark looks down at his hands. He seems as surprised as Sean to find them trembling. "I didn't realize it until just now, what happened."

 

Erica climbs to her knees. "Speak in one more fucking riddle and I will bludgeon you."

 

Mark makes a face at her. "After Sean and Eduardo lowered the barrier at the lab, and the other patients started to fight back, because they could, finally, Sean and Eduardo came out. And I knew I had to stop the feds from coming after us, but I didn't want to blanket-hit the entire facility. I didn't want to hit the others - like me."

 

"So you needed a homing mechanism," Erica says, and she's staring at him like she's never seen him before.

 

"He needed a what?" Sean asks.

 

"You needed a homing mechanism, so you - "

 

"Used Eduardo." A muscle jumps in Mark's jaw. "He was always the kind of person who broadcasted his thoughts. But now he can't help it or even try to keep me out because I made him into the lightning-rod for all the telepathic energy I could push through and now I can't fix the damage."

 

"Oh,  _shit._ " Sean turns around and looks at Eduardo with, for the first time, trepidation.

 

Mark doesn't look up from his hands. "He asked me to do it."

 

"I'm pretty sure he didn't ask you to  _break_ him, Mark," Erica says, in disbelief. "I'm pretty sure he didn't ask you to blow his consciousness wide open."

 

Mark's shoulders tense. "I told him there was a risk."

 

Erica doesn't reply, because Sean reaches for her arm and she recognizes that the tone in Mark's voice isn't anger at Eduardo at all; it's anger at himself.

 

_2030 - U.S._

 

There’s no alarm or anything, but Eduardo wonders if their absence has been discovered at their respective cells yet. He knows that they’re free on borrowed time right now; the second the security team comes looking, what can two men with a single weapon accomplish against so many? And Eduardo is failing, although he’s trying not to show Sean how fucking badly his head hurts, like his brain is trying to hammer its way free of his skull. He doesn’t know where they’re going and he doesn’t think Sean does either, although he suspects that this isn’t Sean’s first time operating entirely by the seat of his pants.

 

“They must have a control room,” Sean says, and they never stop moving. “You know, some place where a couple of fat guys eat doughnuts all day and watch video surveillance.”

 

“Yes.” Eduardo is swallowing back nausea again, but damned if he’ll let Sean know it.

 

“That’s where the barrier controls will be,” Sean says definitively.

 

“But you can access that from any computer on the same network, right?”

 

“That’s the plan,” Sean replies, cheerfully enough. He dodges down a narrow hall, past a door marked _Criminal Records_ and another with _Archives_ , and chooses the first door with a window in it, marked _Senior Researcher._ Sean tugs off his jacket, wraps it around his hand, and puts his fist through the glass.

 

Once they’re in, Sean goes immediately to the computer. Eduardo sinks down, his back against the wall, and rests his forehead on his knees. He doesn’t remember leaving his cell. He doesn’t remember… doesn’t remember…

 

“Saverin. Snap out of it.” Sean is still at the computer, but an undisclosed amount of time has passed; Sean’s jacket is tossed haphazardly over the back of the desk chair, and he looks engrossed in what he’s doing.

 

“I… I’m sorry. What time is – what time?”

 

Sean does look up then, zeroing in on Eduardo’s face. He doesn’t seem to like what he sees, because he begins to type faster, fingers flying over the keys.

 

“Zuck is going to put me in the ground if something happens to you, Saverin; _do not die._ ”

 

“I’m not dying,” Eduardo says, but he’s not sure.

 

“No, you’re not. You’ve just got a concussion and some bruises so man up for ten seconds and stop passing out.” Sean’s tone doesn’t betray how frightening it is that Eduardo can’t stay awake. Every time Sean takes his eyes off him, Eduardo is on the verge of passing out. If that happens, Sean doesn’t know if he can guarantee that Eduardo’s going to make it out of here. Sean isn’t about to fucking carry him. They’ll both go down in a hail of bullets.

 

“Yeah, I’m… I know.” Eduardo’s voice is starting to get hazy and distant again, and Sean flashes an irritated look in his direction.

 

“Get up,” Sean says. “No more sitting for you, you lost your sitting privileges. Get up.”

 

Eduardo’s brows knit. “No?”

 

“There isn’t a ‘no’ option, sorry.” Sean waves a vaguely threatening hand at him, as well as he can without pausing in his typing. “Get the fuck up, Saverin. Do not make me come over there. I will TASER you until there’s a reason for your hair to look like that.”

 

Eduardo frowns, but he seems to be in too much pain to argue, which is probably a goddamn first if Sean’s the one keeping track. He pushes himself to his feet, vaguely swaying.

 

“Go through this guy’s drawers,” Sean instructs. “People keep all kinds of weird shit in office drawers. You might find something that can help us.”

 

Eduardo does as he’s told, and Sean’s relieved to see that he looks marginally more clear-eyed as he begins rummaging through the drawers. 

 

\--

 

There's a sharp  _crack_ somewhere overhead, and Sean's got one hand fisted in Eduardo's - well, Mark's, actually - hoodie, half-dragging him along.

 

"Come on, Saverin, we're going to have to be quicker than this," Sean mutters, and Eduardo's eyelids flutter as he nods, a hand curled around Sean's hip to steady himself as they run through the corridors of the facility.

 

"What do you think's - going on?" Eduardo asks, and the words are interspersed with strange spaces, like he keeps losing his train of thought in between. Sean's not an expert on head injuries, but he doesn't think this is going to be something Eduardo can sleep off for a few minutes.

 

"Well, if I had to make an educated guess, I'd say that everyone in this entire building with a reason to hate the feds and their pet scientists is using this rare non-barrier opportunity to fit in a little retribution," Sean suggests. They reach a crossroads in the corridor, and Sean glances both ways before he turns left, hauling Eduardo with him.

 

"We still taking all lefts?" Eduardo mumbles.

 

"Never fails," Sean replies cheerfully, shaking him a little by the back of his hoodie to wake him up. "Come on, Wardo, I'm not gonna carry you."

 

Neither of them remark on the fact that Sean just used Eduardo's first name without even mocking him. 

 

Eduardo stops paying attention to the number of hallways they travel down; everything's a blur of lights and Sean's voice, and Eduardo just forces himself to keep going until finally, they burst free into the cool, night air.

 

_Wardo?_

 

That's Mark, and the sound of his voice, even inside Eduardo's mind, is enough to make him tighten his grip on Sean's hip to the point where it's painful. Sean gives him a look, but neither of them slows their pace as they race across the deserted area between the delivery door they came out of and the fence.

 

_Wardo, the barrier's down._

 

Eduardo closes his eyes; trusts Sean to guide them in the right direction.  _I know. We took it down._

 

There's a faint echo of approval in the way Mark says:  _You didn't have to._

 

Eduardo doesn't even dignify that with an answer.  _There are other people like you in there. You can't - don't hurt them, they're only trying to get out._

 

There's a brief silence. Then: _I know._

 

Eduardo wonders if Mark's always known, that there were others like him behind these walls; people who weren't lucky enough to have friends and loved ones on the outside with the experience and inclination to set them free.  _What are you going to do?_

 

There's another silence.  _I don't know. I can't find them and separate them from the others. Or I can. But it will take too long, from here._

 

Eduardo frowns, even as Sean lets go of him for a moment to try to jimmy a door open.  _What about from here?_

 

Mark's voice is cautious.  _Yes. From there - and if I'd seen what you'd seen. Then I could set up some fairly precise coordinates._

 

Eduardo drags himself up against the gate, tuning out Sean's efforts. In the distance, the lights begin flickering in the main lab building, and he can hear voices, heavy and hard, shouting orders.  _Then do it._

 

_Do you know what you're asking?_

 

Eduardo doesn't even think twice. There are enough military personnel and equipment inside the facility to put down any riot, conducted by telepaths or not. Eduardo doesn't want to imagine that particular battle.  _Do it._

_Wardo, I can't promise -_

 

Eduardo grits his teeth and surges toward the sound of Mark's voice.  _Now or never, Mark._ _  
_

 

And then there's nothing, for long enough that Sean manages to get the door open and reaches down for Eduardo, wrapping his fingers around Eduardo's wrist and jerking him to his feet.

 

When the blinding white wave crashes through Eduardo's mind, he screams like he's  _dying_ and staggers; Sean doesn't wait. Slinging an arm under Eduardo's knees and around his shoulders, he picks him up and  _goes_. 

 

He dreams about that fucking awful scream for a long time.

 

_2032 - Canada_

 

When Eduardo comes to, he's lying on Sean's couch in the living room of his apartment. Nearby, he can hear the low voics of Sean, Erica, and occasionally Mark in the kitchen. Eduardo feels like his head's been stuffed with cotton, and he closes his eyes again and tries to drift off. 

 

The next time he comes around, Erica and Sean are gone. Eduardo thinks he's alone until he gingerly props himself up on his elbows and sees the top of a curly head. Mark seems to be sitting on the floor, his back against the bottom of the sofa, not doing much of anything.

 

"Hey," Eduardo says quietly, and he remembers, with terrifying clarity, the brutal, crushing weight of Mark's mind, like it meant to drown him. 

 

"I would never want to do that," Mark says, and Eduardo sits up all the way.

 

"Mark, if you're reading - "

 

"Of course I'm reading your mind," Mark snaps, turning his head, finally, to look up at Eduardo. "I can't not. If I could stop, I would."

 

Eduardo swallows, and lowers himself down onto his elbows again. He feels dizzy, and thirsty, and nothing about this is good. "Mark." His voice is quiet; cracks a little. They been over so many obstacles, the two of them. "You know something's gotta give."

 

"I didn't know that I'd done that to you," Mark says, ignoring him. He  _needs_ to explain himself. "That I - that it was my fault I could hear you so well."

 

"I don't care whose fault it is," Eduardo says softly, and he reaches out, dragging his fingers lightly through Mark's hair. He knows that that's as close to an apology as Mark can come, and he accepts it. "But at this point, you can't stop reading my mind. And I can't just let you keep doing it. I need - my own space. Do you understand that?"

 

"I told you, if I could stop, I would," Mark bites out.

 

"I know that now. I don't think I did, before." Eduardo's hand stills, just over the back of Mark's neck. "Maybe I have to stop you."

 

Maybe it's not enough for Mark to be the one trying to keep Eduardo out; maybe it has to be Eduardo who keeps himself  _in_ , who protects what he needs to and lets Mark have the rest. Eduardo can rage at Mark, especially when Mark deserves it, but there arrives a point where he's either got to fix things himself or walk away, and with Mark, there will never be any walking away.

 

Mark shakes his head slightly at Eduardo's suggestion, and it's less arrogance and more resignation when he says: "Somehow I doubt that you can."

 

"Would you rather I didn't bother?" Eduardo asks, with something like a warning in his tone.

 

Mark accepts it for what it is. "Do you even know how to build walls?" 

 

"No." There's a pause. "You could teach me."

 

Mark snorts. "I can barely do it myself."

 

"I know. But this is mandatory, so I'll learn it."

 

Mark twists around to look at him. "It's not a forgone conclusion. It's difficult."

 

Eduardo raises an eyebrow. "You think I teamed up with Sean Parker, with whom I have always shared a mutual dislike, to break you out of a government facility, underwent a brutal beating on your behalf, and smuggled you across the border into Canada because I have a tendency to walk away when things get a little  _difficult_?"

 

Mark turns away. "This is different."

 

"This is  _you_ ," Eduardo returns easily, like that has all the meaning in the world.

 

After everything they've been through,  _together_ \- maybe it kind of does.


End file.
